Confederacy is the New Union
by Confederate America
Summary: The time, is WW2. December 7th, 1941. It was a otherwise normal day for Honolulu, Hawaii. But the desaster that happened on that day, having over 3700 people wounded or killed during the bombing of Pearl Harbor, awakened something that threatened any sanity dwindling on earth.
1. Chapter 1

"Bloody git! What do you mean your not going to help?"

America had just been walking around his back yard, making sure his security system was tuned and ready for any kind of attack, when a desperate looking England had sprinted up to him looking like absolute shit and babbling on and on in a crazy tone about something called a Blitz or something and France surrendering and Germany winning. Then when he basically got on his knees and begged America for help, he was almost immediately rejected in a calm, respectful tone on an American accent. "I mean I'm not going to help. Isn't that what I said?" America asked with a small chuckle.

"Why are you laughing at a time like this?" England screeched.

"Listen, England, bro, I'm going to stay out of this one. World War one… I'm not going to put my people through that again. Not unless completely necessary. I'm going to try not to get involved in the chaos. I want to be neutral, isolated, so that I can still be free."

"So you won't join because you're afraid you'll lose?" England yelled at America. The younger nation flinched at the noise and looked downward to the ground. Glaring at it so that he wouldn't scare England with the look he probably had on his face.

"No. I'm not going in because I know I'll win." He growled.

"You know you would win, but you don't want to help us?" England snuffed his nose with his sleeve and scoffed. "Wow. What a hero. I thought that the good guy saves the day or something."

America's heart sank deeper into his stomach. Hero. Indeed.

"Yes, well. Perhaps you were right England. Always right. I am no hero. Perhaps I'm a worthless bloody wanker who does nothing but eat and play video games all day right? I mean, it's not like I have fifty kids to watch over. It's not like I'm late to every meeting because I want to make sure all fifty of my children feel special and appreciated and known, and I want to make sure I spend time with them and not leave them every damn time France was being rude. It's not like I have people to look out for and it's certainly not that I don't want war to come on my soil. It's not as if I don't want to end up like you did! The powerful Empire and then the next thing you know you're getting drunk on every Fourth of July! It's not like I have responsibilities that don't involve every other ungrateful asshole around here! It's not like I help countless countries and am still looked at like shit! IT'S NOT LIKE I'M A HERO AT ALL IS IT?" America blew his top and screamed to England's face. "Get off my property limey. I've had enough of your Euro crap-shit."

America pointed towards the area England had ran from, but didn't stop glaring directly into the brit's acid green eyes. His eyebrows were raised in surprise and his eyes filled with fear. Something was wrong with America. And he wasn't even in the war. What was going on?

"Don't push my buttons lobster back. I mean it. You are not the only one who has harassed me about this. I am not gonna take it anymore. Now get. The hell. Out. Now!" He roared. England yelped and bolted back to a sea dock to get back to his country to tell the Queen the bad news.

As England was running, he realized that America had called him lobster back. He hadn't been called that sense the Revolution. What was with the name calling and sudden anger issues and yelling tantrums? America was always bubbly and laughing… or hiding something. That outburst, it was… not what he had expected. England had thought America would have been on the first boat to England yelling "I'm the Hero! ~" with his army smiling triumphantly behind him. But uh… that was not the case it seemed.

Back with America, something had been going on. America had been harassed, laughed at, and scolded for his choice not to join the war. Then England, of all people, had to come in and put salt on his wound? Screw them. Screw them all. He and Canada would be fine without those… oh wait… Canada had sent soldiers over too…damn. But that wasn't it. No that wasn't it at all. This problem had lasted much longer then the war. It was just finally breaking through America's infamous smile. The stress of his greatest secret almost being revealed. His biggest threat was never extinguished.

America sighed, rubbing his temples and quickly examining his security systems. He then jogged up back up to his house for some lunch. He went to the fridge and brought out two Doubles. The cheapest things there are; a quick buck each. They aren't exactly filling to a nation like America, but they were cheap. And cheap was healthy, especially when there are fifty other mouths to feed. Even if it was slobbered in grease and god knows what else. America scuffed those down and then hurried to his television to watch the news of the US to the A. Nothing major. Alfred left the television on and got up from the couch. He walked to the kitchen and mopped the floor. (Texas had been chasing Kansas and Missouri around the house and the three had forgotten to wipe their shoes on the entrance carpet.) Then he went to check up on West Virginia and the Dakota twins. They were alright, so he checked on Washington, Utah, Tennessee, Ohio, Florida, Main, New York (twice. He had been up to no good recently) then little Rhode Islands. She had been playing with Wisconsin and Iowa. America sighed, loving the sight of everyone getting along. He did a quick check up on the others and then finally went to the baby room to see if California was having any troubles watching over Hawaii. She was the newest state after all. Hawaii had to be taken care of especially. The baby seemed fine, along with the other states.

America checked to make sure that no one was watching, then went to the door at the end of the darkest hallway in the house, unlocking it with a small key card he wore around his neck, and then going down a three flight staircase where two other doors were. One door was a continue onward one, and the other had stunning darts and an alarm waiting behind it. Same as a wiser person, America chose the door that didn't involve three days minimum of numbing pain and sped down the dark hallway (no matter what Canada said, America just knew that there were ghosts in this hallway) all the way downward to a greenish door. This one had a lock pad on it, also a digit code number pad, and a finger print scan. (America made it up himself but decided to keep the new awesome security idea from his boss) He quickly entered the key code, pressed his thumb on the scan for three seconds exactly, and then twisted the pad lock. (it was the door knob in disguise) He opened the door which actually slid to the side revealing a brick barrier. America sighed and pressed three seemingly random bricks. They slid in and the brick barrier lifted, this revealed an iron door that was abused with age and most definably beaten on over decades. America cautiously lifted the little flap on the side of the door to peer inside.

"Hey there Union. It's been a week sense your last visit." A voice rasped from the darkness inside.

"Just checking on you. What kind of brother would I be if I didn't check up on you once in a while?"

"The same kind of brother who locks his youngest triplet in a dark cell for almost two hundred years." Blue eyes shone as the owner of the voice got closer to the door opening and glared at America. The eyes were the same as America's except they weren't shining or bright. They were darker and more like a glacier then the sky of blue.

"Aw come on bro. Your not still mad about the Civil War are you?"

"You bet your ass I am. Don't think that I won't get you back."

"How? Did you hear about the Berlin wall? It crashed. Prussia's an ex-nation just like you and can't do anything now. You are no different. Which is interesting, because I found something."

"Hmph. Whatever you found probably aint my problem. Since I'm so weak and all." The blue irises disappeared and America heard shuffling on the other side of the door.

"Hell no. I don't know what you might try to do to the states." America deadpanned. He knew that that sort of attitude was a side way of saying 'let me out, I won't bite…too hard.'

"What am I supposed to do to them that's so horrible? Start up slavery again? You'd just kick my ass, Al. You always were the lucky one."

"Shut up Confederate I know about you and your little thing that's been going on behind my back. All those kids you kidnap. Black Market I think it is, isn't it? You and Mexico doing something like that. Why?" America heard a sigh on the other side.

"Whatever. It's not like you'll have bigger problems to deal with anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" America asked through the darkness. But Confederate wouldn't respond. "Fine. See ya." Alfred slammed the flap shut, bolting it with the little wooden slab to block much light, (there was a lamp inside that as almost never turned on) and relocked the brick and original door. He sighed, turning around and leaving the haunted hallway.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!" America jumped but reacted immediately and sprinted upstairs. "DADDY! IT'S HAWAII!" California screeched.

America buzzed past everything. Not noticing the now chaos and panic on the television as the reporter yelled into the microphone: "Attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii."

America burst into the baby room and rushed up next to Hawaii's crib. Blood was on the infant's pillow caused by Hawaii coughing it up maniacally.

"Oh God." America gasped and picked up the baby, cradling it and patting it's back, face down in his arms to get some of the blood flowing so she wouldn't choke. "Oh God Hawaii. Hawaii…" America held her close, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything except let the attack pass. He was suddenly aware of his own throbbing tooth ache and the fact that the tooth was swollen and the gushing of blood from a wound on this arm. But Hawaii was in worse pain then he was.

"Daddy?" Kansas, Missouri, and New York peered into the room. They grew pale at the sight of bloody baby Hawaii and the blood dripping from their caretaker's mouth and shoulder. "Who would do this?" California asked, dumbfounded.

America shook his head, caught offgaurd and shaken. He looked out the window that was open. It was the only opening in the entire house no doubt. America's breath caught in his throat when he caught a glimpse of someone running through the front fields in all camouflage. America saw the black, short hair and symbolic flag on the intruder's pack on his back. He knew exactly who it was.

"Japan."


	2. Chapter 2

"We can't let this stand! I won't allow my country to be treated like this!" New York bellowed in the family room. All fifty states were there including Hawaii, but she had been crying and whimpering the entire time. For the first time in a while, Missouri and Kansas were getting along and California was being paranoid about everything said while Texas was next to him the entire time. The entire Midwest was huddled on the same couch while the southern states sat on the floor, shouting at each other on what the heck they were going to do.

"Kids!"

The entire room silenced and all looked over to their country representative and caretaker. America was glaring at the ground, trying to decide what to do. It was almost inevitable. He would have to join the war. But he couldn't leave his kids alone, and he didn't want to take them with him.

"The boss says that we are going to join the war right?" Georgia asked, her red eyes starting to lose their swollen touch and she started to get ahold of the situation.

"Yeah. The United States has been attacked."

"Poor Hawaii…" America heard in the crowd of children.

"But we aint gonna let that bother us now are we Union?" America jolted in surprise, turning around and seeing his other half. His evil half. The Confederacy of America. "Hey kids. Been awhile hasn't it?"

"Uncle C?" Texas blurted. "I thought you was dead!"

Murmurs of agreement drifted around the family room.

"Yeah well, your daddy's been awfully unkind." It was an exact copy of a pale America. No difference at all except the slight burning in his eyes that shone darkly. "But so has the Eastern bastard. I'm volunteering to go overseas and 'take care' of him myself."

"How'd you know 'bought what was going on up here mister?" Idaho asked.

"I know everything your daddy does. I feel everything too. Kansas and Missouri. You know what I'm talking about. Same with you Dakotas." The two sets of twins seemed surprised, but nodded. "And I felt pissed off the edge, so where do I sign up?"

"Shut up Confederate. How did you get out?" America was suddenly inches from the copy's face.

"I've had a key for years. You might put me in a three layer top security pitch black cellar Union, but you know there aint nothing you or I want more than freedom."

"You know what kind of pressure your putting on these guys just by being here?" America whispered in an angered tone. "Kansas is already getting shaky."

"It aint my fault that he started bleeding internally just cause of stress." Confederate shrugged and smiled again. "Now, about my deployment…"

"I'm not going to send you anywhere. Now even a nickel for the train stations." America glared.

"Hey Dad…" California interrupted. "If he's going can I go too?"

"Yeah! We'll go too, Pa! No one messes with our baby sister!" The Dakota twins jumped up and locked hands, glaring determined at their caretaker.

"Yeah, we all have a right to fight for our country! Let us Dad!" At least ten other states jumped up and got around America's feet. The thing was, only half of them were taller then his waist, and none of them looked even nearly old enough to join the army. Maybe California could pass for sixteen and Virginia and Georgia could probably pass for an army soldier but they were both girls. Rhode islands were out of the question and Main was needed here. New York wouldn't last a couple seconds with everything that's already going on in his state, and everyone else looked thirteen and younger.

"Brave kids you got here. Most of them still haven't lost that war shine they had during the Civil W-"

"Shut up." America snapped. Not wanting anyone to remember too much of the pain that went on during that one.

"Listen, kids." America got down on one knee so that he could look most of them in the eye. "You are all too young to come with me and even if you weren't… I need you to protect Hawaii and help her get better so that she can grow up strong. Alright?"

There was sad silence, most of the states had their eyes downcast and the younger ones were tearing up. But eventually, they all nodded and some of them even smiled.

"But you gotta stay too then. Are you staying Pa? You're gonna stay right? Please don't go Papa." Kansas walked up and tugged his Pa's bomber jacket.

"Hey, I was going to ask that!" Missouri shouted and poked Kansas in the arm hard.

"Ow! Stupid Bushwhacker!"

"Lousy Jaywalker!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

The twins started hitting each other until they were tumbling on the ground. Hawaii started crying again and Iowa tried to break up the fight while the rest of the kids were yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Wow, definably your kids. They got your temper that's for sure." Confederate laughed over the racket. America was starring wide eyed at the scene. There was no way he could leave his kids behind! They were already fighting and it was over the worry of him leaving. If he left, who knew what could happen.

America looked at Confederate over his shoulder, seeing a sly grin dance in the dark eyes. If America left, that would be alone with his kids. Maybe… Confederate could go over… just for the counter attack to Japan though.

"Hey… hello?... KIDS!" America shouted. Everyone gasped and stood up straight. Missouri and Kansas reluctantly broke from their brawl, but didn't stop themselves from calling each other a couple names.

"I'm not going over." America said. Getting a few happy 'yay' s from the kids. "Your uncle is."

Confederate smiled triumphantly and saluted. "Man, I haven't gotten out of America since… Well, pirate days. Revolution was the last time I was out. This is exciting for me~" Confederate smiled, thinking about his time out at sea with England, seeing the Africa's countries and their potential of being a wonderful working country. Then his mood fouled as he remembered America betraying him after a disagreement and America started stealing his slaves and secretly handing them off to Canada. One thing led to another and Civil war broke out. One of the bloodiest wars in history, however, it seemed WW2 was beating the record. Then Confederate thought, 'If I just use some sort of terrifying influence, just wipe out a city or two, maybe I could keep the blood flow low…shit, I'm thinking like Union.'

Confederate's thoughts were interrupted by the house phone ringing annoyingly. Confederate sighed, and waited for America to get it or something.

"Get that will ya C?" America said hurriedly, rushing to the kitchen with a trail of kids behind him and two states in both arms trying to steel his glasses and whining about how hungry they were.

The clone started, surprised that America would let him walk around alone. He cautiously followed the sound of the ringin, and then when the ringing almost died, Confederate rushed to pick it up and speak into the phone, "Yo bro, 'Merica here." That was how America spoke… right?

"America! Are you okay?" Confederate almost fell on both knees with the compact he got to his heart. He hadn't heard that voice in… forever it seemed.

"Hey Brittan… Um- OH! Yeah yeah sure uh… I had to rip my tooth out before it got too infected and Hawaii is… wait, are we talking about the same thing?" Confederate breathed in deeply and sat down in a wooden chair next to the phone.

"W-What? America you don't sound nearly as good as you claim! I think the attack effected your vocal cords too. You sound like you've been gargling nails!"

"Bombs, actually." Confederate glared. England hadn't changed a bit. The stubborn limey probably still fussed about tea too.

"Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Hey, C! Who is it?" America called as he poked his head around the corner of the kitchen entrance to peer at Confederate, children still yelling behind him.

"ShhhhhhhHHHHHH!" Confederate hissed, shooing his older brother away vigorously. That got him an understanding look and America zipping his lips with an air zipper and cradling Hawaii upstairs for more nursing and care.

"Is someone else there?" England asked through the phone.

"Just one of the states." Confederate quickly rasped. Damn, his voice was rough. He needed some water. "How've ya been?"

"America, you saw me this morning. We… don't you remember?" Confederate noticed worry in England's voice.

"Shoot…" Confederate face palmed. How was he supposed to know? He felt America he couldn't live America! "Listen um… Boss says that I'm… Just… damn it." Confederate slammed the phone down and placed his head in his hands. "Ooooooow!" He hissed for no reason… well, his empty tooth hole was bleeding again, b-but that wasn't it! He wouldn't show weakness over a stupid tooth!... or most of his navy ships… damn. This sucked. That Jap was in for it.

The phone started ringing again and Confederate growled loudly, he swung his arm around to yank the phone to his ear.

"What?" He yelled.

"Uh… A-America, is this a bad time?"

"Damn it Canada! Why are you calling you little traitor?" He screamed in the phone.

"Oh holy cow…" Confederate just groaned. "C-Confederacy? What are you doing out of-"

"That dinky little thing you and your stupid brother dare try to pass as a prison? I'm going over to kill that bastard who took out half my navy that's what I'm doing out! Now shut your slave stealing yap right up and I'll hang up and get a surrender treaty ready in advance for that Jappy b-"

"Confederate!" America yelled over the fifty voices of children. "Talk nice!"

"Sure Mom!" Confederate yelled. Sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Oh thank god… America's okay."  
"What, you thought I killed him?"

"Well… actually… yeah." Canada whispered through the phone.

"Good bye Canada." Confederate rasped in the phone and slammed the abused phone down on the receiver again. "Stupid little…" He continued to go on with the names until America rushed down the staircase with all fifty states charging behind him.

"Are you ready to go?" America asked, then noticed the distressed position his secret brother was in and tilted his head a little. "Who was just on the phone?"

"Limey and what's-his-name." Confederate spoke roughly.

"Oh…" America's face fell. "The worse two that could have called just had to didn't they?"

"Like I said, you were always the lucky one." Confederate sighed and stood up shakily. "Outhouse?"

"Bathroom. The second door down that hallway and don't forget to wash your hands and flush."

"What are you my mother?" Confederate hissed and rushed to the bathroom to wash up. That was done rather quickly, revealing even more different slight details that he could be told apart from America. Brighter hair, darker eyes, paler skin, a little less muscle from lack of use, but a bony structure from starvation. Confederate had refused to except anything from America after the Civil War. Even if he was at his mercy.

"Hey, C! I packed some stuff for ya!"

"Gee, thanks." Confederate wondered if America had taken 'Mom' seriously. He opened the door to have a suitcase shoved in his arms along with a certification of war suit.

"Good luck." America spoke clearly. No states were crawling at the moment. Only California stood beside him.

"Kick his ass for me alright?" She glared. Confederate smiled, but nodded. Though she was a free-state, she was always one of Confederate's favorites.

"I will. But luck will have nothing to do with it." Confederate glared determined. He got two respectful nods in return.

"Come back after the counter attack. If you do good, I might –maybe… let you walk around the house freely when you get back." America bargained halfheartedly.

"And if I don't do good, then you'll get a telegram saying I'm dead." Confederate shrugged, grinning when he saw America flinch.

"Oh … I almost forgot to tell you. Sense I'm staying here and your going, Your representing the United States. So… in short: Congratulations The United States of America." America shook hands with the surprised younger clone and side glanced slightly.

"I see… Do you want me to pretend to be you?" Confederate asked.

"Yeah. Go by America, talk like me, walk like me, try to think like me if you can. Your still a secret. All countries think your dead… besides Canada. He's known-"  
"Yeah-yeah. Go on."

America sighed, still crestfallen from the attack on Pearl Harbor. "Try not to completely destroy him. It would be-"

"A shame if there was no one else to surrender." Confederate smiled as their words linked together perfectly insinc. "I still hate your guts though." The new America cleared up the little warm hearted moment.

"I hate you too." the older blonde smiled weakly and walked to the side to let America out of the bathroom. "Oh, put this on before you go." He took of his ever present bomber jacket and handed it to America who took it, examined it, and then intantly got a new brilliant idea.

"I'll be back before you know it." America grinned and ran out the door into the sunlight towards the docks of New York. Freedom, here he comes.


	3. Chapter 3

Confederate took a deep breath of sea air as he came to an Air force station in Rhode Islands. It was a nice day. Perfect for a catastrophe to be put in the history books of generations to come. But, the boss needed to say yes before Confederate could do anything.

"Hey rooky! What are you doing on preserved take off grounds?" A commander yelled at Confederate. The new Nation frowned. This guy didn't recognize him?

"I'm on my way to the European countries to help out with the war. I'm gonna see if I can do anything without it getting to gory." He lied. Pfft! He was going to go over there and throw a shit storm right in that Asian's face is what he was gonna do! They wanted the US in? They'd get what they want.

"You can't do that!" The Commander yelled. "What's your name soldier?"

"Alfred F Jones, Commander." Confederate glared, crossing his arms.

The man stuttered, but nodded slowly and gestured for a nearby pilot to get a plane ready.

"I'm glad we're friends, Commander." Confederate added before walking off to find a drink.

A half hour later, Confederate had a beer in his hand along with a smug little smirk, a one man travel plane presented in front of him.

"Sir, have you been drinking?" A pilot asked.

"Was Lincoln the worst president who ever lived?" Confederate asked, sending mixed messages. "So, how do you fly this thing?"

*lol, Idk how to do a page break on ipad! ~*

"Now that, myself, was a great landing!" Confederate spoke to himself dirtily as he finally took off from the platform. "Wee~" He sang, then turned off his radio transmitter and groaned. Stupid act, stupid America always being so stupid and now he had to be stupid or the stupid secret would get out. America was drunk all the time right? Dammit, he didn't know. He just always felt detached or something. That had to be drunk. America could get drunk at the drop of a hat. Confederate? Pffft! He put rum in his mug to give his coffee a kick. Or more like he put coffee in his mug of rum so that people could still call it a morning beverage.

"A pirate's life is a wonderful life~" Confederate sang as he flew over the ocean. He gulped that last few drops of alcohol and grinned. Ah, those were the days. Everyone had their backs turned to America and their hopes all on him. The entire world was all for The Confederacy becoming it's own nation. Wait, no… Confederate thought for a second… oh yeah. Russia. Commie bastard. The only one who still had any hope for his stupid older brother. Stupid hope. Stupid Russia. Stupid America. Well… he was America now… it felt nice, but also like shit cause you felt all this hatred on your shoulders and crap like that. All these people hating you even though your helping them (now, anyway) But he'd show them. He'd show them all how 'stupid' and 'idiotic' and 'naïve' America really was. Haven't they ever heard the saying 'if you mess with the bull, you get the horns?' Well, they would soon.

"Oh, look at that. I'm here already?" Confederate looked at the scenery of a smoldering city in front of him and was yet again reminded of the good old days. Cannons, gunfire, the smell of blood and death all mixed in with a nice reek of gunpowder. The life!

Confederate smiled to himself, then remembered something crucial. This was England. The one who found him after he had been abused horribly by Spain. The whole gold Francesco almost killing him until he separated himself into two and took the newer body. Canada was kind of older in a way of maturity, but neither of the three really knew who was oldest. But Canada was the weakest so he had been labeled middle child due to Confederate's young appearance. America looked excactly like him, except his eyes were brighter, he was tanner from playing in the sun all day while Confederate preferred reading and meeting up with Prussia for battle training. Confederate had really just been secretly pretending to be America so that England would come see him, but England had chosen America as his Colony representative. Confederate was basically ditched for the kinder, more naïve one. But Confederate would never forget the feeling of England. In those kind arms, he had slept for the first time in months. Forever would he keep those first few moments of peace close. But the nightmares before wouldn't go away either. The golden blood that is now forever staining his once black as soil hair. His dark skin going white and pale…

America jolted from his thought process to barely dodge a black, barely standing house. He leveled out the plane and landed roughly on the soot covered ground. America lifted the hatch and unlatched his belts, shutting the plane down while doing so. He jumped down from the aircraft and looked around in pure sadness. Revolution or not, he still loved that tea sucking limey.

"H-Help…" America turned around slightly at the incredibly small noise and was horrified to see a little girl stuck under some rubble. Her soot covered night gown and large blue eyes the only recognition of her gender.

America rushed forward and quickly uncovered the small child, sheepishly discovering that she was actually a he but shook it off quickly as he hurried to get the kid out of the bad air. America picked up the boy bridal style and ran to his plane where he knew there was an oxygen mask. As he shuffled around nervously for the air aid, Confederate accidentally switched his radio back on, earning a screeching brit screaming into the air:

"-OODY WANKER YOU BETTER NOT BE DEAD!"

And hurting Confederate's ears

"This is the undead speaking, over." Confederate spoke into the radio, annoyed. He still continued to aid the child however and found the air mask.

"Where the bloody hell have you been? I've been trying to get through to your radio for hours!"

"…helping one of your citizens, over." He decided to tell him a bit of truth after a few moments.

"Oh… But still, you could have contacted me…over."

"And what, get criticized about clothes and table manners? Nah, I got better shit to do then tea parties, thanks. Oh, over."

"W-Why you…" Confederate found it amusing to hear someone on the other end telling England to count to ten. Ten seconds later, England was back in a strained calm state.

"What are your coordinates? Over."

"Uhm….. I dunno. Over."

Ten seconds

"Well, can you recognize anything around where your at? over"

"I'm in the middle of a no man's land dude. Blitz left shits to look at. Over."

"I am well aware. Now please shut up. Do you see a cargo plane flying above your station? Over." Confederate looked up. "No. Over."

Ten seconds

"Oh good. The kid's a bit better now." Confederate thought out loud.

"A child is there? Over."

"I told you about the citizen I was helping right? It's some kid that was under a bunch of shit. He's out now and I gave him some fresh air. Over."

"Very thoughtful of you Alfred. Over."

"What are hero's for?" Confederate laughed slightly, but his throat caught something and he started coughing. As he recovered, he heard voices and metal clanking from a distance.

"Alfred?" A concerned brit asked through the static.

"There's someone coming. I have to go." Confederate quickly clicked off his radio before England could start asking questions and slung the child over his shoulder and ran away from the place where he heard voices shouting in German. Yes, he knew different languages. Shut up. Prussia helped him and America out before the Revolution and trained them for fighting. He learned quite a bit of German from all the shouting Prussia's kid brother did.

"So, which country sent it in do you think?" A man asked.

"Not sure. There weren't any flags or labels on it. We're going to go see if we can find anything though." Confederate thought that that was an incredibly strange accent on a German. He skidded to a stop, figuring he could just kill the Nazis if they found him. He scurried inside a soot covered brick building that was barely standing, and covered the boy in a little bit of soot for camouflage, (not that he wasn't covered in it head to toe already) then hid him on the opposite side of the first floor he was in under a metal slab in the corner. He then slid under an open window and waited for an opportunity.

"I am surprised Ludwig. Why would someone be idiotic enough to land five miles from our station?"

Confederate face palmed. He then gathered himself to peer out the corner of the window to see his pursuers. He almost shouted in surprise. They looked exactly like the axis! What a coincidence, they even had the right accents now that Confederate saw them. But hey, that was a stereotype of what those races looked like. Both Italians were hot with brunette hair and walking close to the German who was built up like you know where and blonde with blue eyes. Confederate cringed at the sight of the Jap, hating the very sight of the man being alive. They all wore black to match the soot and camouflage them, and Confederate noticed the small flags on the back of their helmets that had their countries symbolizing the nationality as they walked past his hiding spot.

Confederate let his breathe he had been involuntarily holding in slip out and he peered a bit closer at them. They were heading for his plane that was still in sight. Oh no, what was the Italian doing? No no no no not that door not that door. The kid was behind that one!

"Ve~ Ludwig, Kiku, Lovi, I think I heard something. Can you open the door?" that voice was way to close to the kid.

"*sigh* Okay Feli. But you have to keep a gun ready just in case we missed some soldiers or something." Obviously the German didn't have much faith in his Italian companion.

"Ludwig, its France. I doubt we missed anything." The Jap joked. Confederate's jaw dropped. He was in France? He had misfired England by a long shot! Had he even been given the right course to begin with?

Confederate nearly kicked the wall when he heard the sound that would ruin any hope of staying hidden. The child started coughing up a storm under his hiding place. It wasn't the kid's fault but still!

The door was kicked down and four men entered the room. Confederate barely dove under a sad excuse for a desk and –as quiet as possible- splashed himself with soot and ash. He quickly thought up a little prayer and sent it up to the big guy upstairs, then waited to see what would have to be done.

The unmistakable sound of metal being lifted and thrown crashed Confederate's ears. The weak pleas of the boy started pouring out in French, making Confederate's heart ache.

"What are we going to do with him?" The Japanese asked.

"It's not like he's any use to us." One of the Italians scoffed. Confederate slowly reached into his pocket and flicked out his machete knife. If they touched the kid, if they even dared try anything…

Confederate's hand tighteded around the knife hilt when he heard the gun click.

"There's only one thing to do. Kiku, get him ready to take him back to camp while us three check the plane." Confederate didn't know if he heard that right. Because when he looked around at the group, the said 'Kiku' looked just about ready to kill the kid. His gun was pointed at the child's head and he was smirking.

"Or we could just shoot him and save the trouble." 'Lovi' glared. "One less French pervert to worry about."

Confederate felt bile in his throat. Sure, France had a bad reputation for being an absolute man whore, but this was a kid! Seriously!

"Ve?" The other Italian jumped and looked at the other with shock in his closed eyes. "Lovi! That's so mean!"

Lovi shrugged. "Not like you haven't done it a thousand times." And smirked as he geustured to Feli's gun in his hand.

"…Sh-Shut up…" The Italian shouted, the angry glare didn't seem to suit the little man.

"What about you Doitsu?" Kiku asked. "Keep it or kill it?"

Confederate's blood boiled. It? The Jappy…imperialistic…little…

"*sigh* Go ahead, get it over with." The German waved them off half-heartedly and started walking out of the building once more. "Come on Italy."

Confederate froze before he leapt at the group. What did Ludwig just call Feliciano?

"Ve~ Okay, Germany! Is it okay for my fratello to come too?" "Oh shut up Feliciano I can take care of myself." "Oh come on Romano~ Please?"

And Confederate's heart stopped beating in his chest. R-Romano?... A-As in… the Romano who had been with Spain when he had first met an outsider? Oh god, please no. Not here. How did they find him?

"Chigi… fine. Kiku, do it without me." Romano said, earning a nod.

"Ve~ Hey Luddy, ever notice how much that Kiku and Japan look alike?" Confederate couldn't see straight. These were countries! He couldn't go up against four countries! Especially with one of them being the faller of his own military mentor Prussia, and one of them being the underling and apprentice of the country that nearly killed him. Romano had to have some serious conquistador skills if he had been so close to the Spaniard.

"Ja. But he's at camp right now. This is Kiku. Now, come on before you get him confused with the building as well." He called again.

"Ve~"

Confederate relaxed. Okay, three countries… or maybe just two sense really, Romano and Italy were the same country. But he didn't know their strengths, their weaknesses, all he knew was that he needed to get Japan back, then go home. But that wasn't Japan so what the hell was he supposed to do? Not to mention the kid's life on the line. He had been completely unprepared for this!

The child still hadn't stopped with his crying and pleading, he was now on his knees and tugging at Kiku's pant leg with one hand and wiping his tears off his blue eyes with the other.

"Sorry little boy, but it's time to die." Kiku said blankly and placed his finger on the gun trigger.

"No!" The sound of a knife, flying and blood spilling on the floor, the thunk of the knife hitting the wall, leaving a gaping whole where a heart used to be in Kiku's chest. Confederate breathed heavily as the impact of what he did sunk into his chest. He had just killed the man.

And it felt great

"K-Kiku?" Italy shouted from outside.

"Mein Gutt! Who did that?"

"Chigi!"

Confederate took a deep breath, and sprinted forward, grabbing the child and running toward the window he had been looking through before they could see his face. He leapt out the window, catching his arm on some glass. He cussed quietly, but continued to run for the hills.

"Hault! Stop!" Germany ran after him right on his tail. Confederate didn't spare the man a glance. He kept running. He just kept running. Child in arms, determined expression, heavy breathing, and for some reason, a bloody machete knife on his belt.

"Doitsu! It's a waste of time! It's probably just…"

But Confederate didn't hear the rest. He was already out of ear shot of Kiku, but the German had not given up pursuing him. It was obvious that Germany had gotten stronger sense the 1800's. A little jump in Confederate's heart bumped when he heard a gunshot. By the time the second one fired, Confederate had been unprepared for the lightening to strike his spine as the lead bullet hit dead straight on it's target.

"Gah!" he screamed, and fell slightly. But he didn't dare let go of the boy in fear of what would happen to him. Confederate gasped at the searing pain of a bullet in his bone, but bit his lip and relied on his adrenaline to keep running, though anyone would notice the dramatic change in speed.

"I said, Stop!" The now angry German bellowed and fired again, this time hitting Confederate's left calf on his leg. It hurt like a bitch!

Confederate swore he'd kill the Nazi as he fell, rolling slightly so that the kid was on top, but the boy still managed to roll away from him, uncantious and bleeding.

Another bullet was fired and Confederate wailed in his head as his stomach was shot as well.

"That is what you get for disobeying the superior race, pest." Germany growled at a distance and spat on the ground. Confederate breathed heavily as he felt his lungs start to fill with blood and it got a little hard to breath, then the pain got even worse when he started barking up blood with every whooping cough he made, holding his stomach to try to stop some of the bleeding. "You should be dead by now…" Germany observed. He seemed confused, and peered down at Confederate as the latter glared up at him with a look that he hoped would kill the Nazi. Unfazed, Germany used his own foot to roll Confederate a little and to also hold him down.

"Your… Mein Gutt." Germany glared harder and leaned down. "So you've finally gotten in line to be defeated eh America?" He used English.

Confederate spat blood on Germany's boots and smirked, despite the pain, and used German to tick him off.

"Nein, I do believe your in line though. I'm afraid your not first on my list however, you'll have to wait your turn. Sorry for the inconvenience." Confederate winced and coughed again as Germany lifted and smashed his boot into Confederate's stomach.

"Well geuss what? I'm taking you in." Germany used his own tongue. "So who's defeating whom now?"

"…Thankyou"

"…what did you just say?" Obviously Germany hadn't been practicing his English all to much.

"Those bullets, I had forgotten what they felt like. It's probably best I get used to them if your taking me in." Confederate sighed. This was not how he had planned his day would go. But then… He looked over at the child, and swallowed down tears when he saw wide eyes starring at him with fear, glazed over and empty of any life.

Suddenly, America's prison cell didn't seem to shabby.


	4. Chapter 4

"Where is your base?" Germany hollered in Confederate's face again, to only be met with the emotionless eyes and never ending smile that stared lifelessly at him. Funny thing was, Confederate had no idea what Germany was talking about. Bases were in baseball. Headquarters is what you'd want to know right? Or maybe he was misinterpreting the German language and thinking totally different. It had been awhile sense he had last been out of the house. And what impression the outside world had made! Germany had him tied up to a rickety old chair and had basically thrown him down the stairs to a basement after shooting him five times in each leg to weaken his running and dragged him through a no man's land of a bombed up France with both Italians who had both seemed incredibly upset about the death of Kiku crying behind them both and asking questions faster than a tornado storm.

"If you refuse to cooperate, then I will have no choice but to shoot you in the head!" Germany pointed his gun in between Confederate's eyes, glaring daggers.

"You know… I think you would. You obviously have enough balls to destroy your own brother and mentor, kill your own people, and hurt your best friend Italy. Don't think I'm stupid Germany I know what your little Hitler is doing and it's effecting even you. " Confederate smiled even wider and nodded. "But it wouldn't work. Not on me anyway. I won't die. Obviously if I can take a bombing I can take a bullet or two." Right?

Germany growled and whipped around. "Fine then! Japan!"

Confederate's breathe caught itself in the throat and his smile lowered a bit. As the door opened, Confederate growled and the Jap country glided in like a ghost.

"Yes Doitsu?" He asked calmly.

"Take care of him. I have training to do." Germany walked past his ally and stormed up the stairs behind him.

"It seems you have hit a fragile spot with my friend." Japan observed and closed the door without taking his eyes off of Confederate. "Konichiwa, I am Japan. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I believe we've met before. I am the United States of America. I have just recently joined the war that is present and I must admit it's definably more futile then the First World War."

"I do believe we can both agree on that. I must apologize, I expected you to be stronger looking." Japan looked him up and down. A trickle of blood down Confederate's face from a head blow, frankly he looked like he had just gotten done with an insane asylum treatment.

"It's been awhile sense I was out of the house. I left so that I could kill the bastard who hurt my youngest daughter, Hawaii. Oh wait!" His smile vanished. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Japan didn't move. "I'm afraid so."

"You should be."

"It seems you are not cooperating with Germany's wishes." Kiku walked forward, unfazed by the threat. "But I have ways to get to you." Japan motioned his hand to a dark side of the small room they were in. Confederate hadn't noticed the table that was now standing eerily in the corner behind him until Japan walked to it and picked something up that had a strange gleam to it. "This is something that I thought up while I was in my isolation. Your resources and China's help along with some knowledge from Sweden definably helped me along the way, but I believe it's ready to test out on something. Its top secret and I find it ironic that you will be the first to witness it's… persuasive powers." Japan's lips tilted upward. "We'll see how powerful you are when I'm done with you."

"An injection? What are ya gonna do? Give me a flu vaccine? Oh, I'm so scared!" Confederate rolled his eyes and kept a frown on, but he couldn't help but feel jitters when he saw the size of the needle and the yellowish green ooze that dripped from the tip as Japan tapped it with gloved hands. Japan stood in front of him now, exposing his demon like smile and holding the tool in his right hand.

"As arrogant as ever I see. Ah, well. Please try to remain still and America…" Confederate tilted his head in confusion. "Try not to scream to loud."

Japan took Confederate's shoulder and pulled it closer, before Confederate could guess what happened, the needle was plunged into his spine and the liquid was roughly injected into his bone.

Shocked, Confederate yelped in surprise at the slight sting that the needle's pierce created, but the searing pain of the liquid that filled his spine to the brim was overwhelming. Confederate hissed at first, then as the pain got worse, his hisses turned to whines and the air suddenly got warmer and warmer until it was a Sahara desert in the little room. Confederate looked up at the light above him, it was blindingly bright all of the sudden. Then, a hand came out of nowhere and Confederate came face to face with a horrible monster. It's face wrinkled and wretched and dripping skin from it's forehead to it's jaw line and red, red eyes that glowed. One of the horrid orbs popped out of the beast's head and landed in Confederate's gaping mouth. The familiar taste of blood and vomit started to pile up at the back of Confederate's throat and his eyes started watering from the sudden stench of garlic and union. Gunpowder soon entered his nostrils as well. The monster held Confederate's mouth shut, smiling dementedly as he laughed softly. Confederate tried to break free, but there was no escaping the horror. The screams of his states, America running away from the fire with what remained of the fifty children and being cornered, swallowed by the bright yellow flames before it all turned Dark. England, disappearing into a bowl of boiling tar, France trying to reach for him, finally grasping England but the currents were too strong, and France was pulled in and swallowed as well. Confederate tried to reach out to them, tried to call their names. But the monster, the monster was in his way, holding him down. Confederate felt something on his neck and as he looked down to see what it was he screamed through the monster's hand when he saw the acid rattle snake slithering across his shoulders and hissing at him, showing his fangs and threatening to strike, burning his skin as the acid bubbled off it's scales.

_Tell me America-san…where?... I can make this stop….just give me what I want…_

"NO! Go away! I don't know! I was just stupid and raged in here okay? I don't know what's going on! I'm just here for Japan!"

_You and I both know that's not true… where is your base?... It will all stop if you just tell me…_

"You're not real!" Confederate screamed at the monster who had lifted his hand and his smile disappeared. "You're just that stupid story England used to tell me so that I'd behave! You are not real!"

A Russian accented voice echoed in the blackness behind him.

"Oh come now little Confederate! Did you really think you could beat him? He was always better."

Confederate found that he could stand up now. And he did, kicking the monster away and watching him evaporate into the air with a puff of green smoke, and he threw the snake to the ground thought the burning didn't stop and faced the voice, glaring at the Russian he found to be there instead.

"Ah, Russia! So glad you came to join the party! Now let me kick your ass!" Confederate growled and swung drunk at Russia, missing by a mile and them groaning as his spine creaked when he moved.

"Yes, he always was the favorite. I know I liked him better!" Confederate turned around and was surprised to see Canada standing where his chair used to be.

"What's… going on?"

"This is an illusion of your own creation." Canada said, smiling. "It was designed to wrench information from it's victim by having their biggest fears and regrets come back and haunt them directly." He tilted his head. "But who is this Union you keep talking about?"

"No… I never said…" It was hot…so hot… But at the same time it was freezing. "Your not Canada…"

"You must be mistaking me for my brother America. I was just wondering who Union is, that's all."

"… You should know…"

"I should?" Canada seemed confused, and then his face suddenly was contorted into a wide eyed sneer, terror shadowing his figure.

"Canada?"

"Confederate… help me…" Canada held out his gloved hand out to him. Confederate couldn't think straight and jumped forward, grabbing Canada's hand and looking him in the eye. "What's wrong comrade? Afraid of the dark?" Canada stopped and smiled again, slowly morphing until it was Russia who had a grasp of Confederate's hand.

"Japan! It's going to take a lot more than that!" Confederate hollered into Russia's face and sucker punched his big nose. "Take that you commie!"

Russia stumbled backward a little, than began to shrink. America watched cautisly as this new form started to make hissing sounds. It was the rattle snake again. It circled around Confederate, watching for the opportune moment to strike. Confederate keeping little room for it to try anything.

"I find it interesting you fear Russia America-san." The snake spoke. "But I don't blame you. He is a worthy opponent, but isn't he your ally in this? Or am I mistaken?" The snake hissed and coiled upward, evolving into a King Cobra.

"I aint telling you nothing!" Confederate gulped_. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit shitshit… _

"Very well. I still have plenty of time to squeeze any information I'll need from your mind. I suppose I should try a more forward approach." The snake bared it's fangs and lunged forward, biting Confederate's wrist and holding on, injecting it's venom into his flesh. Confederate screamed as the liquid poured into his blood and boiled his bone until it felt like there was nothing but muscle and blood there.

"What's this? Afraid of snakes?"

"You'd be too if you knew what one's bite felt like!" America screamed and swung at the darkness, the snake absorbing itself into his skin and continuing it's torture.

"Confederate, just shut up would ya? You're such a wimp!" Confederate whipped around, enraged by the voice he heard and fueled by the hatred within his soul, the rattle snakes bite edging him on to roar in anger, and then wonder why he was so angry…

"But… didn't you just…"

"It was an illusion dude. Get real! It takes a lot more than a bit of fire to take me down!" America laughed heartily in that high-pitched annoying squeal of a laugh that Confederate hated so much.

"Bastard I was worried about you! I can't believe I actually fell for that… Damnit!" Confederate just hit his own forhead sense it was the only thing he knew he could hit.

"Dude, seriously, I know that hurts really bad." America pointed at the now pulsing bite wound that was oozing poison and blood. "Just give Japan what he wants, than it will just go away. Trust me." America smiled, and held out his hand in a friendly guester. However, Confederate was not so friendly.

"Trust you? HA! Don't make me laugh!" Confederate almost toppled over on the ground, the poison taking it's toll on him. "America, I wouldn't trust you if the whole world was after me, and you were the only ally willing to help me left. You can't be trusted."

America seemed generally surprised, but he seemed to understand, and backed up a little, raising his hands up in a surrendering kind of way. "Okay then. I guess we could just fight out our differences. Mr. Not America…"

"Dude, now your just annoying me." Confederate said sleepily, and lunged forward, barely hitting America in the rib cage, but still sending enough of an impact that it made him back up a little bit.

"Calm down bro. That snake hurt you bad."

"How about you man up_ bro _or I just might muster enough strength to knock another one of our teeth out."

America seemed confused. "One of _our_…" He smirked. "Very well! Give me your best shot, _bro_."

"You got it. I'll knock the U right out of the SA you-" Confederate struck America right in the jaw as hard as he could. Oh hell yeah, that felt good… wait… Oh SHIT! This wasn't the real deal! How much did he just spill? Oh fudge a duck on the stick with the monkey's….damnit!

America smirked, not even scratched by the attack, and bowed at the waist. "Thank you Mr… whoever you are… it seems we have a misunderstanding. Unless of course, you somehow fear yourself and hate yourself which is completely understandable there is plenty to hate I assure you. I am glad the serum works. I'll be sure to use it again. I'll keep in mind you hate snakes and that you fear Russia. I don't know who this Canada is or what a Union and or Confederacy is… but I'll be sure to check up on your history files to see if there is anything I can find. We'll keep this little experiment to ourselves. If you miraculously escape then you tell no one and in return I won't tell anyone what you are afraid of… though I keep no promises on my side of the bargain. I'm afraid that Germany doesn't know about the serum… Oh, excuse me. Let me turn the effect of. Do not be frightened by the red light. It simply vanishes the visions."

Indeed there was a red light, and Confederate was still tied up to a metal chair, still in the small cement walls of the square room, Japan smiling bitter sweetly as he cleaned up his experiment, and Confederate felt like a complete fool.

"That was… so real… how did you do that?" Confederate asked between pants, looking at his hand and seeing that there was no snake bit, although it still stung, but nearly as bad as it had.

"The human mind is so easy to mess with. With countries it's different, but still. We are human enough to war upon ourselves are we not?" Japan asked rhetorically.

"So… I don't tell you don't… and if you don't I don't…" Confederate asked cautiously.

"Tut tut America-san –if that's who you are- I never said that if I tell you could. If that's the case then I'm afraid you would not have a choice in the matter. Germany has plans. You were not one of them." Japan looked Confederate up and down. "Alright mister, I must admit I am beyond curios. I swear on the bodies of my dead soldiers I won't tell anyone in this war. Who are you?" Japan raised his right hand and seemed sincere, but Confederate was not in the mood to be deceived twice in a few hours after years of being the on the opposite side of the receiving end.

"If your so curious, than look it up. You're a smart kid." Confederate chuckled. Japan did the same, but not humorfully.

"You are a very smart kid as well sir. Childish fears or otherwise I believe you could be intelligent and perhaps useful if you would just cooperate, so I know you should know you are in no position to make demands." Japan turned the lights off as he opened the door. Only that light was available. "I'm afraid I must say farewell. I have a meeting to attend to. I'll be back. Enjoy your alone time. In the dark." Japan smirked and closed the door behind him, locking it and footsteps could be heard on the other end of the door, leaving Confederate to stare at the blackness.

Confederate shrugged, winced at the jolt his shoulder gave his spine, then shrugged again. It wasn't that he was afraid of the dark… exactly… he just wasn't a big fan of ghosts… who usually came out… at dark… ah shit.


	5. Chapter 5

Confederate sighed in the dark, dwelling in the dark for, like, he doesn't know a really long time. He though they forgot he was even down here. Not like that hasn't happened before, the only times kids in the US ever heard about him was when their teacher forces them to remember or else they fail school and then their parents kill them. Confederate laughed to himself, and he found himself in hysterics, laughing so hard his sides hurt. He couldn't believe it! He just spilled the secret in the first few hours of his mission and to his target none the less! Maybe everyone else was right. Maybe he was just an idiot. Some modern version of the Roman Empire that would crumble from within just like every other great stupid nation that ever lived. Confederate still couldn't stop laughing. It was all too hilarious. His own demise being himself and the fact that the world was at war over something as simple as one man's thoughts. Hitler was it? Yeah. The brown haired shorty that thought it would be best to kill everyone but the dudes that looked like Germany. Confederate couldn't help but think that Hitler had a point. Kill off the weak and the lame, put the blind and deaf out of their misery, and then leave the others to see what trouble they can get into. But all blonde and blue would just be stupid. What ever happened to the stereo type of brunettes being the smart ones? And what would the world be without red heads? Did that go out the window a century ago in Germany or something? Meh, Confederate found that he just didn't give a damn anymore.

As Confederate calmed down, he found it ridiculous that he would think like the enemy or even consider thinking like the leader of an ally of the reason he was out here in the first place. Was he ungrateful? Yes… and no. He would have never openly got out of the house without the opportunity but then he wouldn't have just had the daydream of a lifetime right then and there either. Still, Confederate thought he should get used to pain or something. That way, if someone tried to hurt him, he'd just smile and say, "Fuck you" and shoot them in the head. Yeah… getting used to pain would be on his to do list right under "Beat the shit out of that Jappy Bastard".

Confederate jolted when he heard voices. Voices that were extremely familiar.

"Shut up you idiota! If you keep crying like that then they'll know we're here!"

"Ve! Sorry fratello~ it's just really creepy down here… Why are we sneaking around anyway?"

"Because I saw the look on that Japan-bastard's face and knew something was up. So, I'm going to investigate." Confederate shrunk back and tried to scoot is chair backward into the wall, but it was nailed into place. "It's just been bugging me that we haven't seen whoever shot Kiku yet… and I have a bad feeling it isn't who we think it is…" The sound of a bolt unhinging and the jingle of keys rattled his heart as the door knob jiggled.

"Ve? Ah, man! Your on your own Romano! Adios!"

An annoyed sigh after a few silent moments, and then the door cracked open and light poured in, stinging Confederate's eyes.

"Hola? Bastard? Can you hear me?" Confederate cringed a little, but nodded, trying even more to back away from the young man entering the small room.

The Italian turned the lights on and took one look at Confederate, and his jaw dropped.

"You're not… your dead." Romano examined Confederate up and down.

"So, you recognize me? How can you tell the difference between me and my brother?" Confederate cracked in his voice and cursed himself for sounding weak.

"I have a northern part. You have a northern part. We know the difference. Outsiders don't really."

Confederate nodded, but didn't really make eye contact with the Italian.

"So… what brings you back from the dead?"

"The bombing of Pearl Harbor. Maybe you heard of it."

"Si... Is Hawaii alright?" Romano asked. He kind of shifted where he stood and put his hands in his pocket.

"I don't know. America's taking care of her while I'm out here doing the dirty work."

"Did… Were you the one present during the first war?" Romano's facial expression darkened a little bit.

"Nah. That was America. I was still dead back then."

"So the Civil War did kill you?"

"No, that's what my brother wants people to think. You can't tell anyone. If you do, I swear. I will break out somehow and find some way to hunt you down and kill you." Confederate glared Romano straight in the eye. "Got it?"

Romano gulped.

The southern America studied Romano intensely as he slightly shivered in his presence. This is not the spunky, hot tempered Romano that he knew. Where was the fire in his eyes? Something was wary, tired, and wrong with his voice... was that a cast on his forearm? "What's with the posture and face bro? German got your tongue?"

Romano glared, his golden eyes shimmering slightly, but he just sighed and lowered his gaze. "I know some people have it worse off than me… so I'll be grateful I'm alive. I will stay strong for frettello even though I don't know what he sees in that potato-bastard…" Romano shivered. "Why am I telling you of all people these things?"

"You feel a sense of security around me is my guess. You see me and remember…" Confederate cleared his throat and looked downward. "We're easy to talk to."

"You mean 1492?" Romano asked, considering the possibility.

"What are you doing down here?" Confederate wanted to change the subject.

"I…I was just… I'm on a power trip."

"Oh…" Confederate undermined the urge to gulp by clearing his throat. "Go ahead and beat me up then. Take your aggressions out on me or whatever. I can't really do anything about it." Confederate shrugged and looked at the corner of the room farthest from Romano. Confederate waited for the bittersweet cackle of Romano and the crack of his arm bone or something. After ten seconds of dead silence, Confederate looked up at Romano and barely managed not to gasp at the pained and even regretful expression on his face. "What are you waiting for?" he rasped, looking away and preparing for a heated smack to the face.

"San-"

"You can do whatever you want just don't call me that." Confederate growled, then realized that he had just talked back at him. He ducked his head down and closed his eyes tight. Romano was going to get him now. Why couldn't Confederate learn to keep his mouth shut?

"I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then what do you want?" Confederate screamed at Romano, making him back up into the door and reach for the handle for a bolt.

"You shouldn't be down here. I wasn't expecting you. What did they do to you to make you act like this?" Romano shakily asked with pure terror glistening in his eyes. Confederate suddenly had the urge to hit the little man in front of him.

"It's Japan! He's always got a couple weird gizmos up his sleeve!"

Romano seemed to know what Confederate was talking about and relaxed a little, looking embarrassed. "I suppose…bastard."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Confederate rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "Surely you can think of a more intelligent cuss to call me besides 'whore's child'."

"I just thought it would be better than San Salv-… your old name sense I can't really remember your newer one."

"You can call me America. You don't need to know my name."

Romano furrowed his brow. "Don't I have some sort of right to know your name?"

Confederate looked at Romano and looked hard, then kind of huffed a quiet laugh.

"This is war. No one has any rights."

"But what about…" Romano then shut his mouth. "Never mind."

Confederate's eyes narrowed as his curiosity spread. "No, wait, go ahead bro. I wanna hear it."

"The reason you came," he whispered, looking around. "Wasn't it to fight for your right that you have? The right for freedom?" Romano asked.

"…You know you're a lot smarter than people think. Yeah sure! Let's put that in the history books. Beliefs and reasons are excuses for war and that's what gets people remembered anyway so yeah, why not?" Confederate smiled sweetly and nodded. What an interesting philosophy! ~

Romano gave out a sad sigh. "You haven't changed at all, San Salvador."

Confederate darkened as his older named was mentioned. He hadn't heard that one in a long time. "I hear that I can act a lot like my big brother sometimes. Not America of course, my other one." Confederate smirked as he saw Romano shift uncomfortably. "I wonder what happened to him I haven't spoken to him for a while… Oh wait! You wormed your way in with that sweetie big brother Spain of yours and wiped him out! I forgot!" Confederate laughed and smiled darkly as he realized he had pushed one of Romano's many buttons.

"I'll leave now. Do you want the lights on or off?" Romano asked as he turned to leave, flushed with anger and embarrassment of that time. Romano kept telling himself that it was going to be okay, but the evil stare burning into the back of his head made his shoulders hunch tensely.

When Romano started to turn the door knob, there was a big boom. Yes, a big boom and a bunch of shouting and screaming.

"What the hell?" Romano thought out loud and opened the door. He squeaked and slammed it shut.

"What's got your panties in a twist little missy? Is Russia outside?" Confederate joked and laughed at Romano. He really didn't want to care about what was going on outside and Romano acting like a scared little girl was helping.

"Hide me!" Romano rasped and ran right at Confederate.

"Whoa, hey what are you-"*slam*"Ow! Dude, get off of me!"

The thudding footstep outside the door calmed the two down a little bit. The chaos that ensued on the other side of the door hadn't quit either, but the footsteps were a bit creepy.

Suddenly, the door blasted open and a blonde, shaggy haired, green eyed, bushy eyebrow brit raised his gun at any threat that might have been inside.

"IT'S BRITON!" Romano screamed and hid behind Confederacy.

"America! Are you… you…" England stared at Confederate for a split second, and then brought out a hammer looking axe like thingy. Confederate's breathe stopped for a second, and yelped when England brought it down towards him. Confederate looked away, he heard the clanking of metal on metal. He looked up at the sensation of his wrists being met with cool air. He inwardly sighed with relief as he realized that no, England was not going to bash his brains in. He looked up at the brit, whom was not really paying attention to him, as he kneeled down and worked on the metal cuffs that held his ankles to the steal chair legs.

"Hey… Briton." Confederacy smiled lightly, taking in the view of England. He had gotten shorter-or maybe Confederate had grown- but his eyes were still that brilliant green that he loved to gaze into… just a glimpse of the envious color could make him smile like a little kid again… and that was what he was doing.

"A-America… what did they do to you? You look like absolute shit!" England looked up at him with worry sparkling in his angry eyes. "You look like you just got out of the asylum!"

"Gee…thanks."

"Come on love," England helped Confederate out of his chair and held him up when he almost collapsed to the floor. His legs were a lot weaker than he had expected. Five seconds of puppeting his legs to get better, he smiled and nodded at England in thanks. The sharp smile was returned. "We're getting you out of here."

"Whoa, wait!" Confederate held up his hand and looked at Romano. He almost laughed when he saw the terrified, confused little face starring at them both. "You said Germany was beating you right?" Confederate asked, intending on not really paying attention to the answer. Hating his guts or not, Confederate still couldn't bare to see a friend of Japan's getting any pleasure using and abusing someone that could make a perfect target practice for himself.

"W-What? Bastard what are you- OW! Hey let go of me! Don't touch me there! Bastard, let- hey!" Confederate just slung Romano over his shoulder like a sack of flour and smiled at England.

"Okay, we can go now." He chimed over Romano's punches and screaming.

England stared for a second, and then nodded, understanding… sort of. He reasoned that America was just being the hero by kidnapping Romano. Or maybe the term he was looking for was spiriting away…

England coughed a little, and then brought out a shot gun he must have found in the hostage storage, and the bomber jacket with the fifty on the back. Confederate smiled and somehow managed to get the garnish on with Romano screaming on his shoulder. He clicked the safety on his gun off and saw that it was still loaded. His smile widened.

"Hey Briton, let's break out that frog while we're here shall we?" America smiled.

England laughed and nodded. "Might as well knock out two sparrows with one stone."

"Man, I am saving people left and right today!" Confederate laughed and carried Romano out the door and up the stairs, ignoring England's eye roll and laughing like an idiot. He winced at the sun light and narrowed his eyes as he waited for them to adjust. Finally, the chaos of the apparent ambush/rescue mission buzzed around them. American troops stormed the area, shooting down many a Nazi.

"Looks like my boss finally made a decision." Confederate thought about it and realized that it would have taken a little more than just a couple hours to get an army across the Atlantic Ocean. How long had he been in that chamber?

England, Confederate, and the unwilling Romano dodged bullets and ran across the floor. England and Confederate ducked, jumped and sprinted while Romano was trying to break free, not really making things any easier for Confederate. His shouting had soon resolved to begging and even slight crying at certain points, pumping the blood in Confederate's veins and giving him a wonderful adrenaline rush.

"Yo Romano, where do they keep France around here?" Confederate asked, now very glad he had decided to bring the little mess on his shoulder. Oh, he's so cute when he cries! ~

"W-Why should I tell you, you bastard!" Romano cried, angry and frightened at the same time. This is Turkey all over again…

"Because if you don't, I will shoot you in the head and then go after your little brother." Confederate smiled. Romano's jaw dropped. He thought for a split second, and then pointed at a small cabin on the other side of a clearing. Confederate nodded and ran through the bullet storm, getting nicked in the shoulder but nothing he couldn't handle. He kicked down the door, France was there unconscious and looking just as beat up and shitty as Confederate did, his hands were cuffed to the wall. Confederate smirked at the easy find and nodded at England. The brit ran across as well, not getting a scratch on that perfect little form of his and entering the building. Romano was set down, but still being held onto by the wrist.

France was off the wall and being carried by England when they heard the safety of a gun click off. "Drop your weapons."

Confederate tensed and looked behind him, slowly turning around and smiling nervously. "Hey Japan! What are you doing here?" Japan walked out from the shadows, holding two hand guns and pointing one at Confederate, and one at England.

"Drop your weapons." He repeated. England slowly placed his down, and slowly lowered France to the ground. However, Confederate was playing stupid and laughed, bring up his gun and shooting at Japan, nicking his sleeve off his arm.

"How about you let us through. Because this time, I won't miss." Confederate frowned, and narrowed his eyes into a murderous glare.

Japan's breath hitched as he saw the slight blood trickling from the micro slice on his arm where the bullet had cut so cleanly, it was as if Confederate had meant to only wound that small little fracture.

Japan's gaze flicked from the cut to Confederate multiple times, he saw the shimmer in his eyes and the glint of the red flash in his icy blue orbs. Yes, he did mean to do that. Though it didn't make any sense that he was so accurate, and yet he didn't shoot him somewhere more critical. He glanced to and fro between the countries before him, considering his options before he faltered in stance and expression intensity and sighed just slightly.

"Our agreement will stay strong?"

"It's not like I could gain anything from not keeping a promise." Confederate didn't change his harsh expression and brought Romano a little closer just to prove that he wouldn't hesitate to do whatever the hell he wanted and make them all his bitch if they disobeyed him. He was the alpha dog, after all.

Japan seemed annoyed, but he nodded and threw his guns to the far off corner. Confederate nodded at him and started backing away to the door, England with France behind him, Romano and pistol at hand.

"You know, I'm surprised you don't take your opportunity and wipe me out now. Your army is here." Japan taunted Confederate as he was about to turn away. The obviously mentally disturbed and not very nice nation smirked slightly, and then his frown returned.

"Don't worry. I'll pick off your friends one by one first, then I'll take your family rather friend or foe and then finally, I'll get you. I will make sure your punishment for making a fool out of me will be unique and historical. No one will ever be able to forget it. Hypothesis…" Confederate paused, leaving time for Japan to ponder uneasily. "You will definably cry. If of course, you still have tears to shed by the time that little ending comes up. It's not just a game now, unfortunate for you." Confederate nodded at Japan and closed the door, vaulting it while knowing full well Japan could shoot that thing down anytime he wanted to. He kind of huffed a little annoying whine and then shocked Romano by throwing him up and over his shoulder again.

"F-Fratello?!" Confederate jolted and turned slightly, seeing Italy with his white flag at hand, looking wide eyed at the scene. "Fratello! Don't go!"

"Feliciano! Let me go you bastard!" Romano hit Confederate hard enough for the country to actually wince.

"Grr… Let's get out of here." Confederate grinded his teeth at the will power coming from the Italian, and once again had the urge to hurt the little man. Italy started running up to them as they turned and ran.

"Romano!" The Italian wailed sincerely behind them, "Please! Don't leave me alo-" Suddenly, he screamed falling to his knees as a bullet struck his stomach. Romano wailed out to Italy, reaching out to his brother and truly trying and struggling to get away from his captor. Finally, a truck was supplied by soldiers and Confederate dumped Romano inside, only briefly looking behind him to see Japan kneeling down next to Italy and trying to comfort him. As they were separated, the brothers both screeched at each other in Italian and reached for the other, screaming and crying the entire time. Finally, they were out of the camp, and the only thing audible now was the distant gun shots, and the crying of Romano as he lay on the floor of the truck, balled up and hiding in his own frame.

England had been occupying himself with starring at Confederate with frightened eyes. Obviously whatever Japan did to him pushed his button and bashed his ego. But what agreement? What promise was so special, and important, that Japan had to make sure that the young country would keep it before letting them free? The bombing must have had a greater effect on the lad's health then the poor bloke let on. He would have to be inspected and taken care of the moment they got back to camp. To separate two brothers so coldly and so… easily. Truly he had Canada to think about. His own twin brother! He would know what it's like to be separated by the ones you loved by… force. But now, this. It just didn't seem like something the hero would do. Under what reason? Why couldn't they have taken Italy as well if it were a rescue thing? Instead, this nation in front of England had only taken one brother, as if he were a property of his and just brushed off the hurt and atmosphere like it was business. It was like this boy in front of him had been doing it for hundreds of years.

Suddenly, England didn't feel so safe with America.

"We've arrived. The army should be pack in an hour or two. Meanwhile, let's see if there's anything wrong with you." Confederate was surprised to see the little British man standing at the back of the truck like a ninja as the truck stopped. What the hell was he doing with a mustache shaped like that? It was twice the size of England's eyebrows!

"Thank you general. Do you think they were successful?" England asked, trying to ignore the strengthening sobs of Romano.

"Hell yeah they did. They're Americans." Confederate huffed, then smiled brightly at the bushy mustache man. "Thanks, but I don't need medical attention. I'm fi-"

"It…hurts… moi dios…" Confederate's smile faltered slightly and he looked down at Romano with disapproval.

"Did I say you could…" Confederate glanced up at the truly concerned expressions from everyone present. "What hurts?"

"Italy… I-I…Pr-…promised him I wouldn't… leave him alone…" Romano struggled to turn over on his back and revealed a pool of blood on the floor coming from a gun wound on his stomach.

"Oh… shit." Confederate mused to himself and motioned for the mustache guy to get help. Then he kneeled over at the flushed, and yet paled Italian, who winced and tried to drag himself away, but found it useless so he just glared up at the American instead. His eyes glistened a golden flame like color.

"Well… doesn't this bring back memories?" Confederate grinned and chuckled slightly.

"You're a sick bastard. A sick, sadistic, son of a-"

"Silence." Confederate whispered harshly and quickly stabbed his index finger into his bullet wound. Romano screamed as Confederate dug the bullet out, took Romano's shaking hand roughly, and forcing him to put it in his hand. "That is no way to speak to your hero." Confederate smiled, and then seemed generally concerned. "Romano!"

"What?!" Romano screamed at him, mixed emotions spilling through his eyes in a glistening stream cleaning dirt off his face. "What! Do! You! Want!" He screamed louder every word and was mere centimeters from Confederate's face.

"America! What the bloody hell is the screaming about?" England rushed to the aid of his friend in question and the Italian, engrossed by his blood pool growing quicker by the He HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH hoihhio

"He just up and yanked the bullet right out of its place. I swear he's got a death wish!" Confederate reached around the area of Romano, but didn't directly touch him; as if he were afraid he would hurt him more.

"Good lord, Romano! Don't move, don't speak, just…. Doctor!" England shouted for the medical assistance to hurry their asses over there right now.

"Stand back, please leave the truck." The doctor pointed out of the way and pushed his way to Romano who tried his hardest to pull away from him by grabbing on to Confederate's coat much to the man's surprise and pleasure.

"No... No per favore no. Lasciate Confederazione stare qui ti prego ... San Salvador è l'unico che posso ... fiducia in questo momento ... Non mi toccare bastardo ... Gli ho promesso che wouldnt lasciarlo solo. Mio dio per favore ... Lasciami andare a casa."

Confederate looked up cautiously to the british men listening to the Italian closely. He understood Italian, and frankly he did and didn't like what Romano was saying:

"_No… No please no. Let Confederacy stay here I beg you. San Salvador is the only one I can… trust right now… Don't touch me bastard… I promised him I wouldn't leave him alone… My god please… Let me go home!" _

"I have to stay here with him. He's gone through a really tough trauma stage. I am a… source of relief for him." Confederate explained. He cleared his throat as he realized that what he said was true. It kind of made him feel like shit thinking that he was a comfort to the man he had just stole away from his brother and ripped a bullet out of his stomach.

The doctor inspected the Italian, who nodded with a pained expression cringing his face and he sighed. "England, please leave us to our business."

The Englishman seemed shocked, but nodded slowly and jolted out of the truck.

"Salvador?" Romano asked, making Confederate cringe but he nodded.

"Yeah man, I'm here." Confederate cooed and took his hand, feeling the bullet and mentally kicking himself. Maybe he didn't need help…

"I… missed you." He smiled slightly before his eyes rolled in the back of his head and he blacked out.

"My good man if you would please hold this rag and apply pressure on the-"

"Yeah, I know how to clean and dress a wound. If that's all your gonna do, than leave me the supplies and get the hell out of my sight." Confederate glared at the confused doctor, who did indeed leave his supplies behind, and exited the truck's back hatchet. Confederate cursed that total waste of time and leaned over Romano with extreme care.

"Dammit… what's gotten into me?" Confederate asked as he noticed the extensive damage he had done on the southern half of Italy. He reached for the wet rag and supplies and gulped, taking off the bloodied uniform on Romano and placing his head on an excuse for a pillow. Confederate held his breath, and poured the disinfectant and water on the bullet wound. Confederate wasn't even sure if disinfectant was invented yet in the 1940s but he really didn't care. He rinsed, dabbed, rubbed, caressed, lathered, repeated, keeping pressure on the wound with his knee. Confederate sighed as Romano seemed alright enough for bandaging and lifted his knee carefully, cursing out loud when the blood started to come out again. Confederate took the needle and thread that was at hand and started sewing the wound shut tight, really trying to ignore the cries and pained groans coming from the bloody Italian.

"You better thank your lucky stars you're a country and not my personal enemy, or you'd be dead by now." Confederate growled, needing something to seethe off of to keep his energy up. He was fricken tired for hell's sake. He needed a shot of whiskey or something. He decided to continue muttering to himself about how much of an idiot he was and how he should really start to…. Think things through to the end. Dammit, why does that limey always have to be right?!

Confederate finished his sewing, but decided he was going to be paranoid like a smart person and do all preparations for every injury there couldn't be possible for this little guy. One could never know for certain, after all. Gauze, bandages, more washing, a towel, fresh rags, a shirt for guy afterwards. They were all supplied in record time and Confederate wondered what the hell everyone was doing when there were probably American soldiers who needed to be fixed up… and were probably to stubborn except any kind of aid from British douche bags. Oh well.

"Well, look who's all dressed up and ready for the day?" Confederate chimed to the still asleep Italian. No wonder France wanted the kid so bad. He was hot when he slept!

"America?" England called. Confederate took a few moments, the remembered that was supposed to be him and jumped up.

"He's all finished. Thanks for the… stuff I guess. Oh! And the rescue!" Confederate called out.

"Actually, we were just spying on the fort to see if you were there. Your soldiers storming in were kind of a no brainer so we started shooting."

Confederate paused, and shrugged. He was out of the doghouse wasn't he?

"Thanks anyway. Are my men back yet?"

"Indeed, and it was a success."

"Survivors?"

"Uh… None accounted for. There were a few escapees but-"

"That's called a survivor brit." Confederate snapped.

"W-We chaced germany out of France! Shouldn't you be happy right now?" England shouted, pking his head through to see what was going on.

"Oh England, dear, sweet England." The addressed blushed slightly while scowling furiously. It was adorable. "I think we both know that it is extremely hard for me to be happy at the moment. I'm at war. Not on my agenda till a day ago and now, it's personal."

"Wasn't it always?"

"… you'd be surprised. But yeah. Now it's just… a little worse than that." Confederate smiled like a child and patted Romano on the head, carful to avoid the curious curl that he mad account of.

"Now, I'm tired. Good night!" Confederate stood up, jumped out, nodded to the offended dactor, and walked away laughing like a moron.

This was a shitty day.


End file.
